


Time spent apart

by valiantfindekano



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantfindekano/pseuds/valiantfindekano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come to bed,” Fingon gasped against his lover’s mouth, while he threaded his arms around Maedhros’ neck. The fingers of one hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer when he moved as if to pull away. “I ache for you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time spent apart

The door had hardly clicked shut when Fingon was dragging Maedhros down for a kiss. He’d hoped for it all morning; last night he’d allowed his cousin to rest from his journey, though he’d ached for his company, to the point where he’d found no rest of his own.

_Himring. Damned place, too damned far away._

The thought would not have been wholly secret; little of anything they could keep from one another, though Maedhros guarded his darkest secrets well.

“Come to bed,” Fingon gasped against his lover’s mouth, while he threaded his arms around Maedhros’ neck. The fingers of one hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer when he moved as if to pull away. “I ache for you.”

Maedhros hummed. “It’s midday.”

“No one will look for us.” Fingon adjusted his stance so he could press his hips into Maedhros’ thigh. He could feel his interest was returned from the hitch of his breath, and encouraged by that, he swept Maedhros’ plaits aside so he could press his lips to his neck. The tall collar he wore obstructed Fingon’s course, but teasing, feather-light kisses beneath the jaw would serve him well enough.

Maedhros’ hand remained demurely against Fingon’s hip, though it clenched slightly. “I do not worry about that any longer.”

“Do you not?” Fingon glanced up. “The reputation of your prince?”

Maedhros lowered his head, pressing a small kiss to Fingon’s cheek. “I think my prince’s people should value his happiness above ruining his reputation.” He exhaled. “Though I think him mad to find it with me.”

“He,” Fingon answered, “remains humbly disinterested in your philosophy. Maitimo,  _please_. It’s been years. Come to bed with me. I love you.”

Against him, Maedhros breathed in deeply, but he seemed to relent. He moved his hand to replace his lips against Fingon’s cheek, drawing him into a forceful kiss as he pushed him backwards towards the bed.

Fingon yielded, his mouth parting to his cousin’s tongue. His eyes closed, and he allowed Maedhros to guide him down against his sheets—

Maedhros was quick to pin him down, and then he broke the kiss. “You only say that,” he accused, propping himself up on his left arm, “when I fuck you.”   

Fingon’s eyes flew open, scanning Maedhros’ face for some kind of clue as to where this had come from. His heart seemed to have suddenly leapt to his mouth, and the withdrawal of his cousin’s tongue was not the sole reason for it. “ _What?_ ”

“Can I not beg for reassurance as you do?” Maedhros answered after a second.

With a growl, Fingon lurched up, using the momentum to flip their positions. He wedged his knee beneath one of Maedhros’ thighs, gripped his wrist in one of his hands, and pinned it above his head, though a whine left his throat at the tightness across the front of his trousers, which the position emphasized.

“Last time you were here, I spoke it all but plainly before my father’s lords,” he hissed. “You may not care, but I wish to be warier than that, if I may.”

“You never used to.” Maedhros’ eyes looked particularly wide and innocent, a look that he did not often bear; maybe it was the way his hair spread out around his head, or the moisture against his well-shaped lips.

Scars and all, he looked beautiful.

Fingon set his jaw, but his fingers released their grip, only to thread through Maedhros’ fingers a second later. It was not purely desire that coiled in his gut now; the comment had brought a seeping sense of anxiety, and he hated to think that it was intentional on his cousin’s part. But why else would he say a thing like that?

Beneath him, Maedhros shifted his hips. It sent a rush of heat to Fingon’s groin, and once again his eyes fluttered shut, his breath escaping him as he automatically moved to repeat the movement.

“You never repeat it anyway, here or there.” Fingon’s words flew from his mouth, but for his comment, Maedhros struggled to sit up, using his right arm to ply his cousin’s body. It left them sitting awkwardly entangled, muscles straining and breaths heavy.

Their kiss was surprisingly gentle when their lips met, noses brushing and sighs mingling.

“I love you.” Given the discussion, Maedhros’ words might have been mocking. His voice did not take to softness particularly well, at least, and Fingon grazed his teeth across his lower lip in retaliation.

“Maitimo.” He swallowed. Bracing his hands against his cousin’s shoulders, he guided both of them backwards to fall into a more suitable position. Knees bumped, teeth clacked, but both of them seemed to give in at the same time. Maedhros’ hand went to Fingon’s laces, while Fingon fought with his robes, until enough layers had been shed for skin to meet skin.

“Please—“

“Stop begging.”

Maedhros’ mouth was at Fingon’s sweat-slicked throat when Fingon reached his climax. The prince’s hands dug into his shoulders, his hips raised from the bed to meet the thrusts of his lover’s body against his own. Eyes clenched so hard he could see stars, it took concentrated effort not to cry out as pleasure flooded him, and Maedhros held him in place until he too was gasping out his release.

For a few moments it was only the sound of their breathing that filled the room, the echo of life elsewhere in the palace a murmur to sensitive ears. But Fingon licked his lips, freed his hand to brush at loose, damp hairs at his forehead.

“I missed you,” he finally said.

Maedhros had settled against his side, and he nuzzled his throat. “I missed you too,” he answered, and it felt very pointed to hear it. But his weight and the heat of his body was enough that Fingon was disinclined to worry, so he tucked his head atop his cousin’s and let his eyes drift closed.  


End file.
